


Sugar Unburnt

by blotsandcreases



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aged Up, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Robert Baratheon nameday dinner party, F/M, Older Woman/Younger Man, Tommen is in university
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 11:30:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7713322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blotsandcreases/pseuds/blotsandcreases
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Law student Margaery begins dating fresher Tommen. But for his father's nameday party with family and friends, it isn't the introduction of Margaery as his girlfriend that becomes the topic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar Unburnt

Margaery was born with an undeniable sweet-tooth. Her inclination for sweetness and decadence was relentless and inimitable. 

So when Tommen had shuffled to the door of her student flat with a hesitant smile and a shy offering of Volantene cherry cakes, well, Margaery was never one to say no to a pleasant afternoon.

Tommen was absurdly sweet. He was a freshman in the University of Crownlands, an adequate student according to his Literature tutor Sansa. Sansa had a fiendish taste for lemon cakes and Arbor gold, and that was one of the reasons Margaery was friends with her. Margaery just didn’t expect to meet Tommen one morning in the student lounge whilst they waited for Sansa, with Tommen rummaging in his bag. Out of that bag had emerged cat toys, a fantasy hardback, cat food, and finally his essay. Tommen had stuttered his introduction to Margaery, blushed adorably, and it helped that he was a Baratheon and Lannister.

And now, months later, he had showed up during Margaery’s revision for her Public International Law exams. With Volantene cherry cakes.

Margaery pinned him on her lavender sheets. The front of her blouse was crushed within Tommen’s grip as if to keep himself from drowning. What a sweet boy. Margaery let the tip of him slip inside her.

“Oh,” Tommen gasped out.

Margaery discarded her blouse and grinned down at him. Tommen politely kept a firm hold of her hips, his bottom lip white as he bit on it, his eyes quickly alternating between her face and her boobs. What a sweet boy. She could eat him whole. Margaery sank down.

“Oh,” Tommen groaned. His eyes fluttered but he seemed to do his best to keep them open, staring up at her.

After they finished, after their giggling breathless kisses, after Margaery had clamped down her thighs around him and scratched his scalp, they fed each other the cherry cakes.

“And how are the kittens?” Margaery asked, giving Tommen’s thumb a darting lick. “Ser Pounce?”

Tommen’s mother had not been pleased with Margaery’s gifts of kittens for his nameday. She nearly had them returned before Tommen assured her that it was from Margaery and the fact that they knew the Tyrells. His father was indifferent as long as the kittens didn’t make a mess, Tommen had told Margaery, but his uncle Jaime played with him and the kittens sometimes.

“Oh, they’re good. Ser Pounce was in the vet yesterday.”

Margaery shifted her legs around the damp sheets and reached into the box for another cake. “You could still live in campus with them if you apply for here. Greenhand Apartments don’t mind pets.”

It was true. And that was because Margaery’s family owned this building.

Tommen shrugged. “Mother doesn’t think it’s safe. I mean, to live in campus.”

“And what do you think?”

Margaery bit into a cake with a particularly dense smattering of dried cherries and fed the rest to Tommen. She caressed his lower teeth and the inside of his bottom lip and waited for him to swallow.

“I think,” Tommen said, “I think a bit of independence would be okay. And, I mean, the Tyrell Security Agency is also here in Crownlands, right? And your brother Loras is a part of it.”

“Yes, Loras is really good at what he does.”

“Right.” Tommen nodded happily. “I’ll tell Mother. It wouldn’t hurt. Joff spent all his time here getting chauffeured back home. I try my best to be responsible.”

Margaery pecked him on the cheek. “That you do, my sweet.”

“Actually, I can tell Mother tomorrow night.”

Margaery stared at him and then remembered. It was all she could do to keep from groaning. Of course. Robert Baratheon’s nameday party.

“I could do it during dinner,” Tommen went on. 

“In front of the guests?”

“I have more chances of being allowed by Mother if there are lots of buffers.”

Margaery could feel a grin creeping up her face. “Why, look at my sweet Tommen being sly,” she said, burying her cake-sticky fingers in his tousled blond hair. “That’s a marvelous idea. I would be there.”

*

Of course Margaery would be there.

Robert Baratheon was a large, booming man and a very dubious Prime Minister. Wherever he went there were the Lannisters. He scowled at the lot of them. Margaery thought that the least he could do was be outwardly cordial to his wife Cersei Lannister’s family, especially Lord Tywin Lannister. 

Furthermore, wherever Robert Baratheon went, more often than not, more or less optional, there were his brothers. Uptight master of ships Stannis Baratheon with his religious wife Selyse and his daughter Shireen, a facially marred teenager and according to Sansa, a book purist of the show _The War of Conquest_. And with them came a mild scandal a few years back, an even more religious woman, Melisandre. It was not clear whether she was the paramour of Stannis or Selyse, though. Margaery found herself drawn to her Asshai-accented Common Tongue and her all-red ensemble.

There was also the second brother, Renly, rising solicitor, and always with him was his boyfriend Loras and his bodyguard Brienne Tarth, also from Tyrell Security Agency. And with some Tyrells here, it was also polite to invite Grandmother who had forged a new business deal with the Lannisters and who, Margaery suspected, had a bit of an affair with Lord Lannister. And wherever Grandmother went, more often than not, she had with her Margaery.

Lastly, wherever Robert Baratheon went, there were also the Starks. For this lot the Prime Minister beamed and laughed generously and insisted that they come. Lord Eddard Stark, the Secretary of State, a man with a long and solemn face, often obliged on account of long standing friendship. Margaery thought that Robert Baratheon and Lord Stark were like those bros who gallivanted around in their youth, one swaggering and exuberant and one shy and silent.

Lord Stark also brought with him his pack. There was his wife Catelyn, the environmentalist daughter of Lord Tully. His son Robb had Margaery interested for a while a few years back, with his red curls and earnestness. Then Sansa, Margaery’s friend, who was completing a Masters of Arts. Arya Stark was the girl who impressed Lord Lannister with her stock spreadsheets a year ago. Bran Stark was the kid who was obsessing about being an Age of Heroes athlete. Rickon Stark was the kid who had a ridiculous and adorable crush on the older Shireen Baratheon. Then there was their cousin Jon Snow, who looked a lot like Lord Stark, and who was a meteorologist and accidentally became moderately famous after reporting a big snowstorm live on TV, right in the midst of where it first hit, with his muffled yelling, “Winter is here!” into a snow-specked camera.

Tonight Tommen brought with him his kitten Lady Whiskers. She was squirming in his lap because Tommen had tried to hide her with his napkin. Margaery blamed it on the stuffy set-up of the sit-down dinner. No doubt it was his mother who organised the whole affair.

Not that an event organised by Cersei Lannister was automatically bad. Every course was impeccable. The plates were Myrish crystal plates and the cutlery were finest Northern silver. Their drinking glasses were rimmed with thin bands of Casterly Rock gold. The table cloth was done in cloth-of-gold and onyx, the Baratheon house colours, but every few paces there was a bunch of red blooms with the candles.

There were actually a lot of red blooms strung up with the sconces. Even their napkins were red with gold embroidery.

Tommen cooed at the kitten and fed her with a bite of his salmon. It was adorable. Margaery peered around them. On Tommen’s other side, his sister Myrcella was sneaking pink-cheeked looks at Robb Stark. Tommen told Margaery that Myrcella often looked at pictures of Robb on the internet and was a bit dismayed the day Talisa Maegyr started to pop up in them. Across from Margaery, Jon Snow and Sansa were bent towards each other, and snatches of Sansa’s thoughts on _Florian and Jonquil_ could be heard. Sansa told Margaery that Jon Snow was the only one who was really interested in her literature nerdery. A few places ahead Cersei Lannister was absorbed in her Arbor red.

Lady Whiskers was safe.

Margaery had barely finished that thought when Tommen piped up, “Mother. I was thinking of residing in the uni’s dorms.”

Cersei Lannister’s golden head snapped up. She stared at Tommen and when her eyes found Margaery beside him, they narrowed into green slits. “But why, my love? We have a perfectly good car.”

“Oh good,” Cersei’s brother Tyrion said, “an initiative for independence.”

Cersei shot him a foul look. She softened it upon returning to Tommen. “It wouldn’t be safe, Tommen. I’ve told you that before.”

Tommen tightened his arms around Lady Whiskers. “The Greenhand Apartments. I was thinking –”

“Clearly not.”

Jaime Lannister put a hand on his sister’s arm. “Cersei -”

“I’m talking to Tommen.”

Jaime Lannister withdrew his hand.

By now the entire dining table had grown silent. Margaery saw Tommen growing increasingly pink but he persisted, “The Tyrell Security Agency has a unit in the campus and Loras Tyrell himself is part of it.” He sent Margaery’s brother a tremulous smile which Loras returned with a nod. “And they allow pets.”

Grandmother wiped her mouth with a napkin before saying, “Of course Greenhand has excellent accommodations. And Tyrell Security has an exceedingly excellent track record. Objectively, I find no problem with those recommendations.”

Cersei Lannister’s lips were dangerously close to a sneer. “I would be more comfortable if those reviews came from someone not Tyrell.”

Tyrion Lannister audibly groaned. Jaime Lannister grimaced, rolled his eyes, and knocked his water glass to Brienne Tarth’s lap. Renly immediately offered his bodyguard his napkin. Jaime Lannister gingerly picked up his glass and Brienne scowled at him.

“I vouch for them,” Robb Stark volunteered. “Tyrell Security was hired during Winterfell’s wool factory exhibit.” Then he tried for what he seemed to hope was a reassuring smile. Cersei Lannister looked at him coldly.

Robert Baratheon intervened before his wife could say something potentially scathing to his namesake. Margaery had long noticed that he appeared to be fonder of his best mate’s sons than he was of his own. “Ah, come on, Cersei. The boy’s nineteen. Ned and I were living far away from our homes when we were younger than that.”

“Tommen’s father is a Prime Minister.” Cersei Lannister was doing a good work of keeping her voice level. “It’s troublesome enough to get him to and back from campus.”

“A lot of us lived in a campus!” Robert Baratheon boomed. “And we were unharmed.”

“Yes, well, people weren’t so riotous against the governance back then, were they?” Cersei Lannister bit out. “Tommen could be assassinated.”

Catelyn Stark inhaled sharply and gripped at her knife. Lord Stark remained impassive, his grey eyes flicking from Cersei Lannister to his friend.

“Well, sister,” Tyrion Lannister said, “no one could exactly say that Aerys Targaryen’s times weren’t riotous. If you recall -”

“No need for that,” Lord Lannister cut in. He put down his glass of Dornish and surveyed his daughter. “Robert and Lord Stark are doing their best with the realm, I am certain. It would be a discredit to say otherwise.”

“There was only a single riot during Jon Arryn’s tenure,” Cersei Lannister said. “And in Iron Islands, no less, that shoddy place.”

“I was not aware you think highly of Lord Arryn,” Lord Lannister said. “I recall you didn’t wish to be in his presence.”

Cersei Lannister looked away from her father to take a sip of wine. Beside her, Jaime Lannister sat up from his sprawl.

Lady Whiskers kept squirming. 

“He did leave the lot of us in debt,” Tyrion Lannister said.

“That was partly Petyr Baelish, that rodent,” Grandmother said.

“I don’t care about any idiots, rodents or not,” Cersei Lannister said. “Tommen might be endangered at worst. Or he might be influenced by those nasty children who drink at weekdays and fail to show up in classes and even get someone pregnant.”

“Mother!” Tommen yelped. “I wouldn’t -”

“He wouldn’t, Mrs Baratheon,” Margaery said. “Tommen is an excellent student.”

“And how,” Cersei Lannister said, “would you know that, Ms Tyrell?”

“I’m friends with Sansa Stark, his tutor.”

Sansa looked up from scooping up lettuce from Jon Snow’s plate. Margaery sent her an apologetic grimace. From Sansa’s other side, Bran Stark was staring at Tommen with commiseration. 

“Yes,” Sansa said, nodding. “I’ve just seen Tommen’s latest essay. Top marks, of course. Not unusual from his others.”

Cersei Lannister blinked at Sansa before looking back at Tommen. Sansa’s shoulders relaxed and she pushed her pie raisins to Jon Snow.

Stannis and Renly Baratheon were doing excellent impressions of being part of the chair upholstery. Margaery understood that they wouldn’t want to get in the way with their brother and his wife’s parenting woes.

“I say you could live there, boy,” Robert Baratheon rumbled at Tommen. “We know the Tyrells, and your grandfather lived there himself as a lad.”

“Tommen’s not a baby,” Tyrion Lannister agreed, deep into his wine glass.

“And why didn’t you say so as soon as you got accepted?” Robert Baratheon demanded. 

“Well,” Tommen said, sounding hesitant, “well, Mother didn’t allow Myrcella to University of Dorne and -”

“Dorne is half a continent away,” Cersei Lannister snapped.

“Let the boy finish,” Robert Baratheon said.

“So, okay,” Tommen continued, “Crownlands is like, just across the city. It’s not half a continent away.”

“Exactly,” his mother said, ignoring Robert Baratheon, “it’s just there on the other hill. No need to take up other students’ chances to book a room. They could be from farther places like Winterfell. Like Lord Stark’s children.”

“How considerate, your mother,” Tyrion Lannister put in.

“Oh, no,” Grandmother said. She steepled her fingers and smiled at Cersei Lannister over them. “Since we are, ah, family friends, Tommen can have a room in the penthouse. The administration has allowed us the privilege of recommending residents for the two topmost floors.” Grandmother sent a smile at Robert Baratheon and Tommen and finally, Lord Lannister. “Margaery stays there with her other cousins. You will have a separate lift from the other residents.”

Tommen turned even pinker.

Margaery hid her smirk with her napkin.  
“Is it wise to have Tommen with girls?” Cersei Lannister said.

Jaime Lannister laughed. “Tommen is more interested with his pets and background wildlife reading.”

“That’s not –” Tyrion Lannister shook his head. “Tommen can be interested with plenty of things, right, nephew?”

Tommen nodded, turning red.

“I mean I was quite an academic myself,” Tyrion Lannister continued blithely, “and I still found time for -”

“No need for your foul tales,” Cersei Lannister bit out.

“Why is everyone interrupting me and not needing my contributions?” Tyrion Lannister wondered, and cut himself another slice of lamb pie.

“Tommen can be installed on the floor below Margaery’s,” Grandmother said. “There is a one other boy there, I think, or two.”

“I suppose if you ring home everyday,” Cersei Lannister finally relented. “Keep your phone with you at all times.”

Tommen brightened. “Sure. I will, Mother.”

“We’ll keep you in GPS, with Weirwood Network, is that it, Lord Stark?”

Arya Stark snorted. 

Robert Baratheon said, “Seven hells, woman!”

Lady Whiskers broke free and pounced on Tommen’s plate, upending his glass of Arbor gold and spraying around bits of salmon, carrots, and potato.

*

In the end, Brienne Tarth managed to catch Lady Whiskers before the kitten could cut a swath of feline havoc across the dinner table. Jaime Lannister retrieved the kitten from her and had to maintain custody of all three kittens for a week. Robert Baratheon roared at the kitten and Cersei Lannister blamed Margaery to her face about giving Tommen the “little pests.” Lord Lannister’s lips thinned and Grandmother’s lips practically disappeared.

After a tense quarter of an hour, they had cake.

Then in the entrance hall as they were bundling into their coats, Margaery heard Catelyn Stark murmur to her husband something about dysfunctional families.

Margaery couldn’t agree more, and polished off the rest of her bowl of whipped cream and chocolates before grabbing her coat.

*

“Your mother doesn’t know you’re seeing me, does she?” Margaery said the next afternoon.

They were in her flat again. Tommen popped by before his 3:30 lecture, conveniently when her cousins were all in class. Margaery was still in the midst of her Public International Law revision hell so there were papers and books and pens sprawled on the coffee table of the common room.

“No,” Tommen said. “But at least she’s okay with me living here starting next term.”  
Margaery finished scooping homemade avocado ice cream into two cups. She handed one to Tommen and sat beside him, the box of Summer Island mango cakes he brought nestled between them.

“That’s great, then,” Margaery said, and pecked him on the cheek.

“I didn’t tell her because, well, what with the residence situation, it’s messy as it is.”

Margaery bit into her mango cake. She had grown fond of Tommen. His degree was in business, he had told Margaery on that day whilst they waited for Sansa, because he felt that he needed to be dependable to his family. His brother Joffrey was a problem child, and Myrcella was only one person. They were looking at shares from both the Baratheon and Lannister holdings. “But,” he had continued, collecting his cat toys back into his bag and leaving only his essay on the table, “after I finish this, I plan to look out for myself as well. I think I’ll earn money first then I’ll send myself to Veterinary Medicine. Or maybe Zoology. Anything with animals.”

And Margaery thought, if Tommen could grow to love her enough to ask her for marriage, that wouldn’t be so bad. She would have no problems with mergers in the future and Tommen was such a sweet and earnest lad. 

Margaery didn’t dare to think further than a hypothetical engagement, though. She wasn’t keen on looking down the tunnel of married life with someone she only had a fondness for. Margaery wasn’t sure how to know if she loved him, and if love would require effort.

“When are your exams?” Tommen said. He scooped the last of his avocado ice cream and added, “This is great, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Margaery smiled. “Next week.”

“Oh, okay,” Tommen said. “After that you could, I mean, would it be fine if we went to an avocado farm?”

“Absolutely. You had me at avocado.”

“I know.” Tommen had a soft smile. “It’s your favourite. The farm’s in Maidenpool, and it has pottery shops and things.”

Margaery knew that Tommen loved pottery instead of football like his father expected. “We could have a little lesson when we’re there,” she suggested. “You could have little pots for the kittens.”

Tommen beamed and offered her another mango cake.

Later, after Margaery had guided him to go down on her and she had returned the favour, with their discarded ice cream cups and be-crumbed cake box around them, Tommen scrolled through his phone to calm his flush away for his lecture. Margaery sat on the carpet beside him, her head tipped back against the sofa.

“There’s a Wildling protest in the North,” Tommen said. Margaery opened her eyes and saw that he was frowning on the news page.

“It’s expected,” Margaery said. “A lot of us aren’t tolerant of them and it’s unfair.”

“Mother says they aren’t to be trusted. Even the White Walkers with their winter progress, because they’re so pale.”

“Well,” Margaery said, slowly, “your mother is one person. There are many other people with different opinions. You could see what they think, then read about the situation so you could have your own opinion. Start at the paper’s editorial page.”

“It’s the King’s Landing paper. They’re all negative.”

“That’s because all the south are biased.” Margaery sat up. “The Winterfell paper is more unbiased lately as well as the Night’s Watch and The Gift. And Dorne papers are pretty good, too.”

“Right,” Tommen said, nodding and typing it all up in his notes. “Thanks, Margaery.”

“No problem. It’s what we’re here for, in university. Learn to think for ourselves. Nuanced thinking, mind.”

“You’re very clever” Tommen said. His smile was very earnest.

“You accumulate nuanced thinking as you grow,” she said. She ran her fingers through his hair. She knew he will, and then he might see that she was not made up of sheer earnestness and sweetness, like him. He was a bowl of pristine sugar and Margaery had a relentless sweet tooth. Tommen might lose that expression on his face whenever he looked at her, like he couldn’t believe she was there with him.

Still, better have Tommen think for himself. Margaery didn’t like people not thinking.

At length Tommen said, “I should go. Lecture soon. May I see you tomorrow?”

“If you like, of course.”

“I’d love to,” Tommen told her. “I’ll bring you snacks for your revising. I won’t bother you too much.”

Margaery had to kiss him for that. “You don’t bother me, my sweet.”

 

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> When not scrambling for coursework deadlines or daydreaming about fics I'm short on time to write, I'm over at blotsandcreases.tumblr.com sighing happily at all the great things. :)


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